


Second

by the_song_you_gave_me



Series: Brick in the Wall [5]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, BRIGGS Patricia - Works, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_song_you_gave_me/pseuds/the_song_you_gave_me
Summary: Warren’s out for blood after he feels his Alpha fall. Meanwhile, Charles and Anna both fight to maintain control as Darryl and Mercy each face Bran in their own way.





	Second

Charles crashes through the forest with Anna’s wolf running close behind. He sent Darryl and Auriele back to town as soon as Leah’s death rocked through the Aspen Creek pack bonds. Outsiders wouldn’t be safe around his father right now. He isn’t sure he and Anna would be safe around his father right now.

Then there was Mercy, out there somewhere, already run off to find her Adam and likely headed straight into trouble. Charles shifted out of his wolf form when she left, yelling after her to stay close. But since when did Mercy ever listen? He and Anna chase after her scent through the woods, Anna still on four feet, him wearing a light red jacket and gray tee with old jeans gifted from his mother’s magic.

 _It was a magical attack turned West-Northwest._ Bran projects his thoughts to his son as Charles runs alongside Anna. His father’s one-way telepathy continues in his head with no way to respond, _Smells like witchcraft and powerful death magic._

At least the old lobo still had enough control to start plotting revenge. Charles looks down to the black wolf keeping pace at his side. Maybe they still had a chance that Leah’s death wouldn’t turn his father back into the Berserker of yore. Anna whines, worrying after Bran in the loss of his mate.

 _I'm okay._ His father's voice continues, _I’m handing the packs over to Samuel for now, just in case anything happens._

Brother Wolf flares up in anger, feeling slighted. How long had it been since he'd proven himself over his brother? He knew far more about taking on the Marrok's roles. Samuel never even wanted to play a part in that.

_Charles, don’t complain. I want you free of all extra responsibility so that you can focus on what needs to be done here._

Acceptance silences his other nature. “Da knows I might have to kill him,” Charles tells his mate heavily as they leap over a fallen log. “Do you think we can?”

Anna’s wolf growls at his side. “Me either,” Charles answers her. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

They hear Bran’s snarl echo through the trees. Charles feels a rising cold swirling in his gut. He’ll be damned if he leaves Anna behind now, and there’s no way it’d be smart to run into the mess waiting for them up ahead. He keeps a steady pace, running silently in soft moccasins over the rotted leaves on the forest floor. The sound of Anna’s paws rustles underneath the rush of air on his left. Charles reaches for the pack bonds, already closed down tight in defense against witchcraft and the seeping black rage that ebbs from his father’s wolf. His da’s own anger tempers that rage, keeping it at bay for now. Maybe, just maybe, they still had a chance to get out of this alive.

Anna and Charles cross a threshold of magic running through the trees. The air suddenly smells like ozone. Charles hears the alarm of spirits from the forest screaming in his ears, telling him to turn back. They tell him his mother’s magic won’t help him here.

Beside him, Anna slows to a stop instinctively, and Charles looks to her.

The blue-eyed black wolf growls at the air, her nose lowered close to the ground in a fighting stance. Her anger isn’t directed at him. If anything, he shares her sentiment.

“We’ll walk carefully from here.” Charles voices aloud. Anna snuffs in agreement. She pads after him, her feet now silent.

They hear Mercy scream, down in the bottom of the ridge. Charles grabs Anna’s ruff before she bounds off toward the noise. “Don’t.” he warns, “It isn’t safe to rush ahead.”

Anna bristles with impatience, pawing at the ground and shooting looks his way.

“My love, we don’t know who the monsters are in this wood right now,” he tells her. Bran already lost Leah. Charles couldn’t let Anna put herself at risk, not without knowing anything about the witches who were able to encroach upon the Marrok’s territory.

That, and he really doesn’t want to run across his father just yet.

The dark and swirling cold rage of Bran’s wolf spills into Charles through his tie to the pack, even with all the connections closed down to a mere thread.

He keeps a hand on Anna’s fur, drawing her support as she reluctantly lets him lead. Anna shivers from the rage pouring in to her from his da’s pack ties. Charles works to keep calm himself as he picks a way down the side of the slope. He knows the forest well enough to find a route that wouldn’t leave them blind to the lay of the land ahead.

The smell of blood and death tinges at his nose. He scents the panic, pain, and sorrow hovering beneath the stench of black magic in the air. Charles feels Anna’s nervousness shudder through their mating bond. Her wolf whines softly at the prolonged horror coming from Mercy’s screams. Then silence falls.

No, that’s not right- if he listens, he can still hear the sound of breath.

“Charles,” the Marrok’s voice calls through the trees.  His father speaks in Welsh, “Don’t let Anna come closer.”

And Charles has to stop. He reaches out for Anna and only now scents the other cues he shouldn’t have been missing: the smell of wolf, and the smell of Change.

If that was Mercy… then his father was right. An Omega has no place bringing peace nearer when a fight is needed for the Change.

He holds on to Anna’s fur tighter as his own wolf rises to the surface of his thoughts. Charles greets Brother Wolf gladly. From the pack bonds, he can tell it doesn’t feel like his father has any control left at all. Charles readies himself to face his Alpha, the Marrok. All the while, Mercy’s breath pants out in slow, pained gasps.

“Anna, stay.” He holds his hand out before her as he steps slowly farther over the side of the slope.

She growls right back at him. Like hell she’s staying because he said to, her wolf makes clear through their bond. Anna holds her ground for Mercy’s sake and woofs to her mate to be careful.

Charles crests the gentle hill off the side of the ridge and sees a giant circle cut through the trees, where everything is just _wrong._ The leaves, the scents, the spirits are all dead within a outline so clearly demarcated and yet invisible to see why from one side to the other. The base of the circle touches the ground, carving out a long swath of destruction right through the Marrok’s territory, extending far beyond where he can see.

His father stands off in the distance beside Mercy, both of them changed to human from their animal forms, naturally without clothes. Bran has blood on his hands so dark it’s almost black. Mercy lies on her back, panting hard, her arms thrown over her eyes, her stomach open for all the world to see those bones and soft tissues that should never touch the light of day.

Behind her rests the silver-blue wolf with black points that was Mercy’s mate, Adam’s head lying separate from where the body was thrown. In the dappled sunlight of the shaded clearing, Leah’s golden wolf looks oddly at peace, fallen in the path of that large, bizarre circle of magic and death.

Charles thinks he really doesn’t want to have to kill his father.

Bran’s head stays pointed at Mercy, his sandy brown hair covering most of his face. She continues her struggle to breathe. A thousand other scrapes and wounds crisscross her arms and legs, and the smell of wolf courses through the air. It fluctuates with every hovering scent and sound. Charles waits with increasing dread.

He knows that if Mercy dies, he’ll have to fight the Marrok.

The seconds tick on, and Mercy’s shuddering breaths cease.

Brother Wolf takes the forefront as Charles refuses to panic. The thick, poisonous rage coming through the pack bonds from the Marrok threatens to boil over and draw him into madness. His da appears to shrink, just a little. Brother Wolf doesn’t trust that look one bit.

He wishes Anna were here at his side.

Mercy gasps in a breath for air and in that moment a flash of movement puts the Marrok kneeling at her side. Charles can smell the mint and musk of werewolf in Mercy’s scent blending oddly with her original hint of coyote. He feels the touch of fur at his fingertips, and Anna stands at his hip, leaning up against his leg. He lets the air out of his lungs in something short of a sigh. Maybe, just maybe, they might live through the day.

Charles runs his hand through Anna’s black fur.


End file.
